Today would be Terun's and my third anniversary and second as a married couple. It would also be his 50th birthday. I am glad I am here at The Rock, sitting just feet from the memorial garden where his ashes were scattered (along with some of those of my grandmother's). Terun loved this place, which was quite fortuitous because I happen to love it too and spend a lot of time here.
I'll offer some thoughts on loss and spirituality after the break, but first a word from the Brothers and Sisters Diary Group:
Welcome to Brothers and Sisters, the weekly meetup for prayer* and community at Daily Kos. We put an asterisk on pray* to acknowledge that not everyone uses conventional religious language, but may want to share joys and concerns, or simply take solace in a meditative atmosphere. Anyone who comes in the spirit of mutual respect, warmth and healing is welcome.
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Our first date was on June 15th. We met on social media, which led quickly to a telephone conversation. It was his birthday, and he was new to town. I invited him out for a drink. He told me the minute he saw me that he "knew", and so did I. The next day was our second date, in which we marched for marriage equality at Southern Maine Pride. Later that Summer he went to work for Equality Maine and helped that organization (as well as our parish, St. Luke's Cathedral) convince Maine voters to reject their anti-equality vote of 2009. Perhaps because our bond became so strong, we proposed marriage after just a few months. We knew. We wanted to be together for the rest of our lives, and in his case, that was true.
When Terun got sick--quite unexpectedly and quite terminally--we abandoned our plans for a big wedding at the Cathedral and were married in a private ceremony. I'm glad we did it, and I will never regret it. Somehow, he talked my father out of his parents' wedding rings which happened to fit us both without resizing. He knew how much they meant to me, and Terun became especially close to my father and his wife. In fact, he fit right into the family, and I into his. It was uncanny, and it was all so fast.
It was, however, just right.
This is Pride weekend here in the wonderful marriage equality state of Maine. I'm not marching this year, but instead at the place where our relationship solidified into a deep and loving relationship.
My church family and spiritual advisers played a large part in getting over the shock and pain of the loss of my husband. I know traditional religion is not for everyone, and while Terun became an Anglican, he still held to his Native American spirituality as well. He was, in fact, perhaps the most deeply spiritual person I have ever met and had a special connection with animals: he would have "conversations" with our cat Geoffrey in which they would stare into one another's eyes sometimes for twenty or thirty minutes at a time.
Grief is a tough nut to crack, and while it has become more manageable over time, you never really get over the loss of the love of your life. I am thankful to have so many wonderful memories and I know he is close by me all the time.
It's Pride Weekend, and it's my anniversary, and it's his (and his identical twin brother's) birthday. I think I'll spend some time staring at my cat.
Thanks for reading. Please share your prayers*, joys, and concerns in the comments.